


Not Your Father's Fairy Tale

by Sera_Clay



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sera_Clay/pseuds/Sera_Clay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzington, one shot, fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Father's Fairy Tale

In the elevator, she is Agent Elizabeth Keen, talking about the latest blacklister, and he is Raymond Reddington, the Concierge of Crime. A guarded enigma.

As they step into the echoing cement parking lot of the Post Office, she is just a woman. And he is just a man, walking away.

"No, Lizzie. This isn't what I want for you."

Lizzie stands there looking up at Red. They are squared off in their usual way - his legs are wide and he's rocking back slightly on his heels, she's leaning forward on her toes - except they're just a little closer than usual. Their voices are a little lower.

Liz knows that from some angle, this is all being filmed, will be captured forever on the security feeds in the bureau's secure, backed up electronic vaults, but she can't bring herself to care.

"You're not giving us a chance" she protests softly.

His mouth is pinched at the corners, but Red appears otherwise unmoved.

"Don't be so impatient, Lizzie. You'll find someone far more suited to you."

Liz grits her teeth at the softly patronizing edge to Red's voice, then consciously loosens her jaw. His sharp eyes are stabbing into hers; from the tilt of his fedora-clad head he knows exactly what he's doing to her.

"You'll be quite grateful, one day soon."

There is a tenderness in the way he's withdrawing from her, even though he hasn't taken a step yet. She can see it in the set of his broad shoulders. She's running out of time.

"Please, please, Red" she whispers, knowing even as she does so that it's all wrong. That she's giving him all the power with those words.

"This isn't Beauty and the Beast, Lizzie."

Red touches the brim of his fedora. 

"You know where to reach me for our next ... assignment."

He's walking away. She's just standing there, watching him walk away, his overcoat swinging, but his strides are just a little shorter than usual. As if he's taking each step with iron control.

Liz runs after him, sees him stopping, still with his back to her, grabs at his sleeve.

He turns half-way to face her, his pale brows lowering in the beginning of a reproving frown.

"I'm not a Beast, Red."

A little huff of laughter escapes him, dying away as she daringly reaches out to touch his chest. Laying her right hand over his heart, as if she can feel it beating through the layers of expensive wool suit, through the Kevlar vest, through muscle and bone and the invisible barrier he's trying to put up between them.

Liz holds Red's gaze once more, trying to pour everything she feels into her eyes. 

That she can feel it when he walks into a room, that her mouth literally waters at the sight of him, that she bought a small bottle of his ever so expensive cologne and guiltily sniffs it before she goes to sleep at night.

That she's only her true self, her own flavor of powerful and intuitive and dangerous, when she's with him.

His nostrils flare, his eyes are as wet as hers, but he takes one step backwards away from her touch. Graceful. Final.

"You're making a bad decision, Red." 

Liz shudders at her own voice, which sounds angry and ragged and deep, like it's being ripped out of her.

Red's mouth is slightly open, she's never seen him look so flabbergasted.

"What did you say, Lizzie?"

Red never asks her to repeat herself.

She just stands there, looking at him, her outstretched hand falling to her side. It feels cold and numb; her whole body feels strangely light, as if she's going into shock.

"That's the last thing your father ever said to me" he says in a soft tone of absolute wonder. His hand goes to his head, as if to rub it, encounters his fedora, hangs puzzled in the air. 

Lizzie draws the deepest breath she can.

"Marry me, Raymond Reddington. Marry me, and live happily ever after."

She watches his eyes darken, something subtle shifting in the mobile lines of his expressive, beloved face.

Red breathes, once, twice, her whole world hanging in the balance, and then his hands open, palms toward her, in a gesture of complete surrender.

Liz flings herself at him, raises her mouth for his kiss. 

As Red bends his head, lowering his lips slowly, tantalizingly to hers, he whispers into her ear. His breath smells like butterscotch and cigar smoke and promises.

"Why Lizzie, I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
